


British Tea Party

by AlAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, time to be british
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 07:51:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlAngel/pseuds/AlAngel
Summary: Family afternoon tea with Crowley and his mother always makes for an entertaining hour.





	British Tea Party

Title: British Tea Party  
Character: Crowley, Rowena || Pairing: Crowley x demon!Reader  
Genre: Fluff  
Word Count: ~1k  
Prompt: “Brits are the best.” “I know, that’s why I’m possessing one.”  
Summary: Family afternoon tea with Crowley and his mother always make for an entertaining hour.  
A/n: Also everyone reading this, please forgive me if my Rowena isn’t perfect, I’m only on season nine so it was mostly improvising (but I loved the idea way too much to not write it). ENJOY <3  
…  
“Fergus” Rowena sounded exactly like she always did when talking to her son, in a know-it-all manner and with a not so subtle bitchiness to it, “Why is it that your ‘girlfriend’ sounds more Scottish than you do? Is someone ashamed of where he comes from, dear?”  
You quickly took a sip of your tea to hide the smile about to spread on your face. Tea parties with Crowley and his mother always tended to end in discussion, though this one seemed like an entirely new one. Usually it was more of an if-I-were-to-rule-hell-I-would from Rowena’s side while your king stuck more to the how-to-British-polite-threaten-your-annoying-mother kinda small talk. Needless to say you were the only one that got to enjoy those afternoons.  
However usually the two of them mostly left you out of their fights. Really Rowena had some points, for example about how the Winchesters did not deserve help with the way they couldn’t even spare a thank you afterwards. Despite that most times you picked Crowley’s side, Rowena was terrible at parenting even with a three hundred something year old son – You really didn’t need to know how her early childcare had looked like.  
“I’m quite content with the meat suit I’m wearing” Crowley answered, obvious fake patience in his voice “Thank you for your concern about my heritage, mother.”  
“Sometimes I’m really worried about you” Rowena kept going “You sound so common English. Next thing I know you might even drop tea with your poor concerned mother.”  
“The only reason I’m here is so you won’t be suspicious when I’ll one day poison that tea of yours” Crowley send her a sweet smile “Plus (y/n) lets me spike my tea when you’re not looking.”  
“I feel betrayed” Rowena turned towards you, but you simply shrugged. For some reason, which you still didn’t understand, the witch actually liked you. Sure, the first two or seven tea parties she tried to kill you. But being with Crowley you learned it was a family way of showing love. Plus she didn’t succeed – Contrary to her son. In fact it was quite a fascinating story how you fell in love with the demon that killed you and tried to torture you – for about five minutes, till you started making out and kinda gotten together. Honestly, love works in mysterious ways in hell.  
“That way he at least drinks from a tea cup” You answered, looking over to Crowley and winking his way. He knew you were only playing around, sometimes he hated how well you and Rowena got along these days, but secretly you knew he was just happy that his mother didn’t try to kill you anymore and that for once in his very long life she approved of something important to him. And you were important.  
“True enough” Rowena sighted, taking the last sip of her tea “I don’t know why you put up with him, (y/n).” She let out a deep breath, looking at her son with exaggerated motherly worry “Anyway thanks for the tea. It’s been a delight to talk to the only sensible person in hell.” A slight smirk spread over her lips, casing a smile as if she’d eaten a whole basket of extra sour lemons “And nice talking to you too, Fergus.”  
Before any of you two got the chance to say good bye she snapped her fingers and vanished. At least she wasn’t the kind mother in law that stuck around for ever, asking embarrassing questions about when she’d finally be grandmother. That would be way more unnerving than some well-placed death threats over Earl Grey and Biscuits.  
“Infuriating, isn’t she?” Crowley stared down the seat Rowena had occupied till a couple of second before. Never would he let his anger and rage on while she was around, but as soon as she left the venting started. Today as well he mocked her, in his best attempt at an over exaggerated Scottish accent “I’m a centuries old witch and I’m way better at everything than you all are. Blah blah. I’m so classy and posh. Brits are the best.”  
You couldn’t help it this time and busted out laughing. Your boyfriend’s voice was higher pitched while doing that silly impression of his mother and it was hilarious. Of course your reaction earned you a glare, but not a truly angry one. Deep down he loved making you laugh – And despite your best attempt at hiding it, he knew how hilarious you considered tea parties with him and his mother.  
“Hey, I know” You finally answered to his quite ironic praise of awesome Britishness, after getting some air back into your lungs “That’s why I’m possessing one.”  
“I still don’t understand why you’d choose to sound like that out of all the meat suit you could have”.  
“I always liked the way Brits talked” You admitted with a smile “You can say the most dumb and vulgar things and still sound like you’re the most posh person in the world. Plus come one, you have to admit it, it sounds bloody fucking hot to be British.”  
“The way you talk makes me remember my human life” The smile that had been spread wide on your face dropped, you did know a bit about his human life after all. Although you couldn’t claim to know everything and understand the man he was then. But one thing you knew for certain, he didn’t like most of the memories, it hadn’t been the life anyone would dream of and with a family like his you understood why he didn’t speak often about it. Thus you reminding him of that with the way you spoke, was certainly not to be considered a good thing.  
“I can change meat suit if it bothers you, my king”  
“It…” he paused, looking for the right words. It took him a few moments to look back into your worried eyes, sending you a reassuring smile “Don’t. I might have hated that life, but mother is quite right it is where I come from. And you talking, being my amazing British girl, makes me feel at home.” Another small pause while he took your hand across the table “The good kind of home I always wanted to find.”  
“I love you” You put your other hand on top of your already joined hands.  
“And I love you, my queen”


End file.
